Ferret Love
by MarigoldStevens
Summary: So, in short, Ron's hero was actually the Devil's soul-mate  or snogging partner. Ron supposed they were roughly the same thing . DM/AG


This takes place in their sixth year, near the beginning.

Disclaimer: No, in fact I'm not J.K. Rowling. Common mistake, don't worry. None of the characters are mine, only the plot.

To say that Ronald Weasley was having a bad day would be like saying the Titanic sinking was "just a little unexpected swim". Snape had deemed it necessary to assign him a 5 page essay on the Leprechaun (Ron still didn't see what this had to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, other than Snape's twisted pleasure in giving him absurd and completely irrelevant assignments), and his singing potion had succeeded in him singing and talking in Finnish for the next hour, until Madame Pompfreys antidote kicked in.

"Finished with that essay yet, Weasley?" Ron glared at the sky; someone up there had to have a twisted sense of humor to put this icing on the cake.

"Why do you care, Malfoy?" Ron tried to throw all of his loathing for the pale blond boy into a single glare, but only succeeded in looking like he had had a little too much spiked punch. Malfoy smirked and strided over from where he had been leaning against a tree, a glint of pure evil and darkness in his eye for all to see (well, only Ron could see it, but he swore it was there).

"Just curious to see how much easier the essay is for you," by now a small crowd was forming, eager to see the latest Malfoy-Weasley sparring before dinner. Ron quickly scanned the crowd, mentally estimating how many each side had. There was a great deal of Gryffindors, who would surely take his side, and a handful of Hufflepuffs who would try and stay peaceful, but would really be rooting for him. The Ravenclaws usually tried to stay out of things like this ("silly childish spats") and tried to ramble out some rubbish about "using logic" and "thinking things through", but their mutual hatred of Malfoy meant they were on his side. Slytherins, on the other hand….the thought of dozens of rat-faced, green and silver clad Death Eater children gaining up against him soured Ron's mood, but it shot back up like a hot air balloon when he saw only one or two of the snake kids were around (the rest were undoubtedly in the dungeons, plotting on how to sneak poison into his pumpkin juice or torturing bunnies).

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy simply scoffed at Ron's question, as if the mere thought of someone not understanding the brilliance that ingrained in each word that fell from his mouth was laughable.

"I just assumed that the essay would be easier for you, because of your family and all," Malfoy said lazily, running his fingers through his hair, causing a unanimous sigh from all of the girls, who had apparently forgotten that the object of their deepest heart's desires was _Malfoy_, the ferret-boy. How he had a fan-base among all of the houses; even Gryffindor for Merlin's sake, was beyond Ron's comprehension. Was there something about being a slimy git that girls found attractive?

Ron shook his head, in confusion to the girl's sending "I-love-you-please-snog-me" looks towards the-ever-smug Malfoy, and to his last statement. Malfoy was no stranger to insulting the Weasleys; he could write a bloody guide on the many ways to get under Ron's skin with the snide remarks about their hair, his mother, or his hand-me-down, well, everything. But being compared to Leprechauns was new. Oddly enough, every time Ron kept trying to think of a reply, he couldn't get past the image of a green skinned Percy, dancing around a pile of gold.

"A little slow getting there, are we Weasel?" the Slytherins tittered at Malfoy's comment as Hermonie (standing off to the side with a cluster of red-and-gold clad students) raised an eyebrow and gave Ron a wary look that said "don't be an idiot". He pretended not to see this. "Well, I can't say I blame you. I mean, it's apparent your related to Leprechauns _somewhere_ down the line, but it must not have been to recent, otherwise your family would be spending that gold instead of relying on your father's pathetic excuse for a job to get by," Malfoy sneered. Ron reached for his wand, prepared to hex Malfoy into next week, no make that next year! No, better yet, next-

"How dense _are you_ Draco?" they both turned to look as a tiny girl with dark hair made her way over. "I mean, I realized Daddy dearest has to buy you friends, but I didn't realize he had to buy you a brain too. And a dull one at that," Ron blinked. So the girl in the green and silver tie was on his side. Well. This was…odd. But a pleasant surprise. Yes, a Slytherin girl sticking up for him was a nice little surprise indeed.

Malfoy's face turned an odd shade of bright pink as the students surrounding them (including the basis of his fan club) laughed. Dean Thomas was snickering, Ginny bursting into laughter, and even Hermonie biting her lip to keep from giggling. Ron would have to give this girl, whoever the heck she was, a box of chocolates later (but_ without_ love potion, thank you very much).

"Stay out of this, Greengrass," Malfoy spat, and Ron's dreams of the girl smarting off to Malfoy until he flung himself off the astronomy tower or raced into the Forbidden Forest, never to plague Ron with his ferret-face again crashed into a million little pieces, all which stabbed Ron in his now broken heart. Greengrass. As in Astoria Greengrass. As in the little 4th year who was known for her sarcastic spats with Malfoy. As in the bane of Pansy Parkinson's existence (she was certain the girl was going to try and steal Draccy-Waccy from her. Although Astoria always said you can't lose something you never had.), and Draco's supposed soul-mate and snogging-parter (Ron had 5 Galleons on them having "talks" in Snape's potion closet during lunch, while Seamus said they weren't that picky, arguing that any random broom closet was fine.) They both ignored these accusations, although that didn't stop them from randomly disappearing at weird times, leaving a hysterical Pansy and bets to be placed.

So, in short, Ron's angel was actually the Devil's soul-mate (or snogging partner. Ron supposed they were roughly the same thing). Which meant she wasn't here to swoop in and tag-team the Ferret with Ron, no; she was going to throw a few sarcastic jibes at Malfoy, then zero in on Ron like a hawk spotting a baby, red-haired bunny. In a few short minutes, he would be torn apart as the couple from Hades would joyfully make fun of everything from his eyelashes to his shoelaces. This day was certainly turning out to be just peachy.

"Gladly," the 4th year rolled her green eyes, then sighed, still ignoring Ron. "But I couldn't help but hear your last remark, and I wonder if you're even a wizard, or just some idiot with a wand," even if Ron was certain he was about to be teased mercilessly, he found the snarky comments from Greengrass to be splendid. Malfoy's face now resembled a tomato with platinum hair, turning redder as everyone snickered. He opened his mouth to say something in retort, but Astoria kept on talking, "Because I seem to recall that Leprechaun coins disappear, which means even if Weasley's own mother was a Leprechaun, they wouldn't be filthy rich. Still have more brains than your whole family put together, though," she added cheerfully. She turned and walked away, a bounce in her step, leaving Malfoy opening and closing his mouth in disbelief and Ron in stunned silence that no, in fact it was not on Astoria's agenda today to sneer and snicker at him until he cried (which Ron never did. He was far too manly for that.)

"Shut it Weasley," and with that, Malfoy gathered up his remaining pride and sauntered off to the Great Hall, no doubt searching for Pansy to stroke his hair and tell him it was alright and she wouldn't let the mean Weasley hurt Draco again. Disgusting.

Draco Malfoy was not in the mood to listen to Pansy's opinions on the scandalous affair between the Quidditch player and the muggle, but he had made his presence known, and now she was stuck on him like a leech for the rest of the night. Usually he avoided the situation he currently found himself in, but, still seething from Greengrass making a fool out of him in front of every bloody thing that breathed, he had thrown himself into the seat at the Slytherin table, not noticing what pug-nosed girl was sitting beside him until it was too late.

Greengrass. Stupid bloody Greengrass. He would love nothing more than to hex her until she swore never to speak to him like that again, but instead she was down at the opposite end of the table, snickering with a bunch of 4th years. Despite assumptions from other unnamed parties, his relationship with Astoria was not complicated, thank you. They were not soul-mates, nor did they sneak off to explore Snape's potions closet and/or empty broom closets to swap spit. She was an annoying little girl who thought she could speak however she wanted to Draco whenever she wanted, and he was tired of it. Sick and tired of it.

"She'll regret it," he muttered under his breath. "She'll regret every second of it," he said sullenly, crossing his arms and sliding slowly down the bench, as Pansy prattled on and on about Merlin knows what.

Severus Snape had heard the rumors circling his godson and Ms. Greengrass (even the mermaids had). He had once questioned his godson about it-not actually coming right out and asking if Draco was prone to snogging Astoria in his potions cabinet, of course, just skating around the whole thing-and Draco had hastily assured him that no, in fact the rumors were not true. So that put the end to that, and Snape would hear no more of it. 10 points would be docked if he caught a student whispering about the two, and if he caught students making a bet on where exactly Draco and Astoria went to, he would promptly take up the money and give a detention.

"Tubeworms," Snape muttered under his breath, swirling the thick purple substance residing in the tiny black cauldron on the desk. Snape wasn't in his room, no, he was in an abandoned classroom (Hogwarts seemed to have an abundant supply of those), mixing a, erm, personal potion. "All it needs is tubeworms, and it will be complete," he stalked out of the room, firmly shutting the door, and swept down the hallway, his black cloak swirling around him in a very bat-like fashion as he icily docked 20 points from Gryffindor upon seeing a couple snogging against the wall, wearing identical gold and red ties. "No respect," Snape sneered at the pair as he stalked into his classroom, his mood already severely darkened. _As if I care to see two children over each other putting_ _their faces all_ _over each other_ he thought sourly. Inconsiderate dimwits. You'd never catch a couple clad in green and silver in such a public display of affection, they had more pride, more class.

How very odd. Snape paused at his desk, staring down at it. He had been certain his graded essays were in a neat stack, right beside the key to the potions closet. But now they were spread all over the desktop, and-where was the key?

He turned towards the potions closet, grabbing the handle and wrenching the door open to find his godson, his tie loose and his hair ruffled, who was currently snogging Ms. Greengrass, whose hair ribbon was loose and lipstick smudged.

", what exactly do you think you are doing with ?" Draco sprang away from Astoria, whose eyes were widening. His face turned a shocking red as he sputtered, trying to smooth down his hair.

"I, um, well you see, we were just, um-"Astoria (hair ribbon back in place and lipstick righted) cleared her throat, cutting a thankful Draco off.

"Good evening professor. I see you have tubeworms," Astoria said, nodding to the jar of tubeworms Snape had grabbed off the shelf, "and smell of lavender and lemon. What a pleasant combination. Did you know that Shampolimtis, the popular potion for greasy hair, also smells of lavender and lemon, and requires tubeworms? Is this a personal potion professor, or perhaps for a student? Say, Potter, perhaps? I'm sure he'd love to know about it either way," _and if you dare_ _to say anything about any of this, I'll make sure he and the rest of the castle find out and never forget._ The unspoken threat hung in the air as Astoria smiled pleasantly up at him, then walked out.

"I, um, I, there's this class, and I'm probably suppose to be there, and I, erm, you see," Snape raised an eyebrow at Draco, still red-faced and rambling. "Erm, bye!" Draco finally blurted, racing past him.

The next day Astoria and Draco were spiteful as always towards each other ("are you dead from the neck up Draco?" "Go do everyone a favor and move in with some mountain trolls. They'd probably feel just like family, wouldn't they Greengrass?"), while everyone kept pondering about the strange lavender and lemon smell coming from the Potions classroom, and why Snape's hair was surprisingly normal looking. And no one was the wiser.

Review, please(:


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